


Nobody Loves Me Better

by ThisIsMyVoice



Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Insecurity, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsMyVoice/pseuds/ThisIsMyVoice
Summary: “I’m sorry, you want me to what!?”Prince Philip’s expression is stuck somewhere between pure shock and sheer horror. He looks a bit like a man who has accidentally inhaled a moth. Or a man who has discovered he’s unknowingly been feasting on human flesh.Diaval can't really blame him.... “I want you to teach me how to pleasure a woman.”
Relationships: Diaval/Maleficent (Disney), Diaval/Phillip (Disney)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 176





	Nobody Loves Me Better

“I’m sorry, you want me to _what_?”

Prince Philip’s expression is stuck somewhere between pure shock and sheer horror. He looks a bit like a man who has accidentally inhaled a butterfly. Or a man who has discovered he’s unknowingly been feasting on human flesh.

Diaval can't really blame him.

He rubs slowly at his brow, cheeks still the kind of hot, embarrassed pink that hasn’t faded at all since he walked into the castle. Nor in the half hour it took to relocate them to the nearest pub.

Even _he_ can’t believe what he’s asking. Or… _whom._

That he has to ask at all is a special kind of agony all on its own - not because he’s as squeamish as humans about the topic – he’s a _Raven;_ but, because he’s a Raven, he’s prided himself thus far on his knowledge. About Humans, about Fae; about everything else he’s needed to know.

He’s not especially strong. 

He doesn’t have magic. 

And being his beautiful self is only so useful. 

But to fly and see has been his honor. His special skill. His comfort. It has been how he has lived and served and been useful all these years by her side.

But he cannot just _see_ this. 

He looks up at Philip then, face set determinedly, despite the blush still lingering on his cheeks.

“I want you to teach me how to pleasure a woman.” He repeats firmly.

Ale comes spraying from Philips mouth, much as it had the first time Diaval had said it, but this time, Diaval doesn’t avert his eyes as Philip coughs and thumps his chest, trying to breathe through the alcohol he accidentally inhaled.

“Right,” he wheezes eventually, “That’s pretty much what I thought you said the first time.”

He stares at Diaval, mouth hanging open slightly. His lips move a little, as if he’s trying to think of what to say, but no sound comes out. 

“Diaval,” he breathes eventually, rather helplessly, “Why me? I mean, not that I’m not honored that you chose me or that you think I’m…but- but… I’m not entirely sure that I’m the best candidate for…you see as far as experience goes… well I’ve only ever really been with one woman and that was – ”

Diaval holds up his hand with a playful grimace. Thankfully, Philip immediately stops. “If you were going to say Aurora, please don’t. I’ve known the darling girl since she was being swaddled in napkins. _I’ve_ swaddled her in napkins. I’d rather not have a mental picture of her being…pleasured by you.”

Philip blushes to the roots of his hair. 

“Oh, well, I-um – ”

Diaval chuckles into his drink, waving Philip’s impending apology off and taking a generous sip. Humans were so much fun to tease about mating, truly. Especially Philip, the dear boy.

Why him, he’d asked?

Diaval drains the remainder of his pint, setting it down with a dull thud. He’d hoped the burn of the ale down his throat and into his chest would distract him from his own vulnerability, but he’s all too aware of it as he rubs tiredly at his eyes. “You’re the only one I could think to ask, the only one that might actually help me. I don't exactly know a lot of humans.” He admits quietly. And even that might be an exaggeration: Philip and Aurora. Two humans. He knows _two_ humans. But he knows even less Fae. And it’s obvious why he can't ask Aurora. 

“Oh…” Philip says softly. He straightens, compassion and understanding written over his features and Diaval offers him a wry little smile and then sighs, flicks meaninglessly at his empty cup. 

“You’re also the only human male I trust to give me reliable information on something this important, so there’s that.”

Somehow Philip manages to sit up even straighter, chest puffing out a bit at the implicit trust being placed in him. It’s such a raven trait and Diaval’s smiles fondly at the display. 

“You might not be too clear on the logistics of it but, before I was a human, I was a…Raven. An actual bird, not just some kind of figurative one…” If Philip was shocked to realize that Diaval was a bird that could transform into a man rather than a man that could transform into a bird, he doesn’t show it beyond the slight widening of his eyes. “All I know about humans or Fae I’ve seen and heard flying about. But there are certain things that can’t just be casually observed.” He pauses, wondering why this part is suddenly so much harder to get out. Philip, who is listening intently, doesn’t interrupt and Diaval appreciates how the now-King of Alstead gives all of himself to helping others, especially when he knows how much he is needed. 

“The more I stay in this form, the more human I become, and I’ve noticed certain…urges. I know what I would like to do about them but… I don’t know how to begin going about it because… well because… female ravens don’t exactly have all the accessories female women do.” He’s blushing again, damn him, thinking of her ‘Accessories’. 

"She… my partner,” he adds, careful to omit any names. Then he sighs. “Sometimes she looks at me like…” Like she wants to throw him down and ravish the ever-loving daylights out of him. Diaval’s blush explodes onto his face. “Like she’s waiting for something. I…I think she’s waiting for _me_ . It feels like I’m supposed to be _doing_ something, but I don’t know what. And my body urges me but I- I don’t know _how_ . And she won’t ask me or rush me or pressure me, but I do want…to…and I want the experience to be… good…for her.” He also wants to hide his head inside a hollow tree, having to stumble around explaining all these insecurities and inadequacies when he’s spent most of his life, both as a human and as a Raven having none. But it’s this, all this and Philip, or stumbling into the nearest whorehouse and asking if he can watch, and apart from just how disgusting that was guaranteed to be, it also felt… _wrong_.

Unworthy, undeserving of how he wants this night to be. He would hate to treat her anything like – 

“Things are going well with Maleficent then?” Philip observes, and when Diaval’s gaze snaps to him, his smile is kind. Warm.

“She tells Aurora quite a lot and Aurora tends to tell me a summarized version of it, especially when she’s so happy she feels like she's about to, quote, _explode_ with joy." He grins. “That happens a lot when her mother is as happy as she is.” a moment of hesitation, and then, more directly, “As happy as you make her. Apparently, you’re very, very good for Maleficent.”

The heat in Diaval’s cheeks spreads, sinking down to warm his heart.

It…eases a _weight_ from his shoulders that he always carries, even when he sometimes forgets that it’s there. Soothes and comforts that part of him that sometimes wonders… 

He _is_ a bird and she could have anyone…

After all, a _Raven_ and the most powerful dark fey in the entire _world_ … 

The most _beautiful_ , _wonderful_ , _reluctantly_ _kind_ \- 

He sags a little with the relief of hearing it, scrubbing a hand over his face before leaning into the bar top, not even caring that it's probably the furthest thing from clean. 

Even though deep down in his heart he _knows_ – has seen her smiles, and bright eyes and laughter for himself – it feels good to hear it, and apparently from her own mouth too.

That he was good for her.

That they were good together. 

Now if they could finally _be_ together…

“I just…I just want to be able to love her like she deserves.” He whispers to the sticky wooden table- top.

There’s silence for a while after that. 

He can feel Philip looking at him, digesting that, while Diaval plays idly with his mug and refuses to meet his eyes.

Eventually, Philip sighs and it’s a decisive enough sound that Diaval looks up. “Right, well, we better get on with it then.”

Diaval’s eyes widen and then he grins, and Philip let’s out an embarrassed little chuckle that’s rather endearing and strokes at the soft fuzz of the beard he’s started growing. Every so often he’ll make a half-hearted comment about how he really should shave; but inevitably, Aurora will mention how much she likes it, or playfully stroke her fingers across his chin and tell him it makes him look like a dashing rogue, or just blink those big blue eyes up at him and pout and, tellingly…the beard has stayed. 

All the fuzzy beginnings of one anyway.

“I can’t give you much more than the basic body parts, what they do and some observations I’ve made. There’s…well there’s actually a healer back at the palace, an older woman who might be able to help us some more. I’ll go with you if you like so you can get all the information you need. I could probably learn a thing or two, too.” he smiles then, a crooked grin at his own expense, despite the fact that it’s been two happy years since he married Aurora, they already have one adorable little girl toddling about, and his God-daughter still spends her days looking more than happily in love. Not for the first time, Diaval appreciates how well they did by Aurora in accepting Philip as her husband. She made an excellent choice, in his kindness, humility and willingness to put self above others, even to the extent of voluntarily embarrassing himself by taking the equivalence of “classes” with Diaval.

He hopes Philip can read in his smile, his appreciation; the renewed warmth with which he holds Aurora’s husband, his God son-in-law, of sorts.

“Right,” Philip says brightly, for maybe the third time and slaps his knees decisively. He scoots his chair over to Diaval …and then hesitates, as Philip is known to do. “Before we start… Does Maleficent know you’re –”

“NO!” it explodes out of Diaval much louder than he intended. Loudly enough that Philip jumps a bit, startled, and even some of the drunker patrons are giving them bewildered looks. But he _has_ to _understand._

Diaval leans into Philip’s space, eyes as serious as the grave. “Unless you want to spend a considerable amount of time as a maggot in one of the stable’s dung heaps, you can’t tell her, you can’t ever tell her I – ”

“Asked for my help pleasuring my mother-in-law?” Despite the way he’d paled at Diaval’s outburst the cheeky blighter is actually teasing him, a grin on that charming face. 

Diaval feels himself flush again but he raises a cool, maleficent worthy eyebrow in response, “You do realize that you’ve admitted you’ll be basing majority of your information on things you’ve learnt because of Aurora, her daughter. Bet she’d love to know how you get all your ideas.”

“Ah,” Philip says, looking suddenly ill _and_ as red as a tomato. “Yes well, how about we agree to omit all names, and take this secret to our graves. Then we should be just fine.”

“Right.”

“Right. Maleficent can never know.” Philip declares a little too uncertainly for Diaval’s taste.

“Never, _ever_.” Diaval reaffirms firmly.

“Deal.” 

“Deal.” They shake on it like men and then Philip wipes across his brow where a reactionary cold sweat had formed at the idea of the Dark Fey finding out just what kinds of things he got up to with Aurora. 

“Ah, right well,” he takes a cleansing breath, “Let’s start with the basics shall we…”

***

Later that night, they walk, or rather sway back to the castle, full of a fair amount of liquid courage. 

Diaval’s arm is slung around Philips waist and Philip’s over Diaval’s shoulders as they drift amicably down the street.

There’s something about coming to the aid of a friend; of showing mutual vulnerability and honoring it with kindness that a has a way of bringing two people together.

Well that, _and_ hearing Philip stumble his way over the word “breasts.” The boy was hilarious. Were all humans as hung up over something as simple as the names of body parts?

Anyway, all things considered, Diaval feels considerably lighter than he has all night; lighter even than when he learnt that Maleficent talks to Aurora about how happy he makes her. 

He no longer feels like he’s drowning in the things he does not know, or on the verge of panic about all the ways he might not be enough.

Philips explanations were simple, straightforward and respectful. He hadn’t focused so much on ways of pleasing any particular woman as on giving Diaval the names and functions of the body parts attached to both male and female humans.

(He feels much better about the weird dangly bit between his legs.)

And that he now knows that Maleficent’s lips and neck and fingers, such seemingly ordinary body parts, all take on different roles and levels of significance in mating. That places that weren’t ordinarily sensitive suddenly became so. 

That the little black circle in Maleficent’s beautiful green eyes is called a ‘pupil’ and that he can watch how that expands and contracts to determine how well she enjoys his efforts.

He now knows that the rounded parts of Maleficent chest _are_ called breasts, and there’s a circle on it that’s very sensitive, and another, smaller circle that sticks out a bit called a ‘nipple’ that’s also very sensitive. He can touch that, or kiss that or _bite_ it – because humans and Fairies are very strange apparently - but _gently_. 

(Privately, Diaval wonders if anyone has ever bitten a nipple _off_ and if so, is there any way to grow them back!? It’s all rather alarming when he considers it.)

It was actually a great comfort to realize that there was so much he _could_ do; that there wasn’t exactly a _wrong_ way to mate with one’s partner, as long as one remained attentive and closely listened to their desires throughout the process. This was the one thing Philip had stressed on the most: the importance of communicating with and checking in on your partner. Of finding out what she needs and likes and going from there, which had been the most reassuring part of his entire explanation.

Because, if there was one thing Diaval has excelled at, all these years - it’s been giving Maleficent what she needs.

For over twenty years he’d given her his wings. His eyes. His knowledge. Now he wanted to give her all of himself.

And what better way to do that than by doubling down on the information he now had by talking to an actual woman?

***

“Um… Madame Alfonse.” Philip knocks rather quietly on the healer’s door.

At first, Diaval thinks that there’s going to be no response, because there’s no way anyone could possibly have heard that. 

But the door swings open almost immediately to reveal - 

Madame Alfonse is a short, fit woman with graying hair and shiny, full moon spectacles that seem to emphasize the keen intelligence in her bright blue eyes. Diaval recognizes in her almost instantly – in her straight back, and uplifted chin - a certain strength of spirit and directness he’s most familiar with. The effortless air of authority that she exudes instantly puts him at ease, tension bleeding from his body.

Meanwhile Philip chuckles nervously and gives her a little wave.

“Oh, Philip!” She greets, “it’s quite the time for you to be knocking at my door. Is everything alright with you? with Aurora? And who’s your friend?” Intelligent blue eyes land on him, and Diaval gives a graceful bow. “Ah handsome and charming, oh I could like this one.”

Diaval’s roguish grin comes purely from the raven part of him that’s preening at her compliments. She purses her lips, amused.

“Yes, well, everything’s fine but uh, my friend and I actually have some questions we needed to ask.” 

Diaval glances at him surprised, even as his body instinctively steps forward when Philip ushers him into the room. Philip had said he would accompany him to make sure that he wasn’t alone but he’d kind of assumed that that just meant that the prince would leave him at the door and Diaval would pretty much have to fend for himself…

It’s still strange, having someone that wasn’t Maleficent or Aurora looking out for him like this. A _human_ no less. It’s also…nice. He thinks about the face Maleficent would make at both terms, the words ‘human’ and ‘nice’ going together and smiles to himself, the last, faded bit of his nerves leaving him.

“Oh? what kind of questions dearie?” Madame Alfonse hasn’t stopped examining him from head to toe since he’d arrived and he knew that she’d know that he couldn’t possibly have come from around here in his all black ensemble: long-sleeved shirt, breeches and boots with a leather cloak.

Dashing, he is. Common, he most certainly is not.

If she notices that Philip never answered her question about who Diaval is, she seems to choose to ignore it in favor of making her own assessment, simply watching them with expectant eyes once that’s done. 

The question of exactly why they were there though, is where Philip starts to stutter. “Well, uh, you see… well my friend and I, we – ”

“I want to know how a woman’s body works.” Diaval gently but effectively cuts across him. 

Maybe it was the large portion of liquid courage he’d ingested. Or simply the fact that he was done being embarrassed about having to ask for help but. He lo – He cared about Maleficent. He wanted to please Maleficent. He’d come this far, so he wasn’t leaving without finding out everything he could. He had no qualms about entering into the details of mating - It _was_ just information – no, it had been more the idea of being found so obviously wanting. But he’s even over that too. Now, he just wants to _know_.

“Ah,” Madame Alfonse says, looking surprised, even as her gaze sharpens on him, “well when you say works –”

“I want to know how to please a woman when we’re mating.”

Philip was choking again, apparently on air this time and Diaval absently pats him on the back, not taking his eyes off the sharp blue ones that felt like they were boring into his very soul.

“Now you understand that I’m not in the business of giving ‘mating’ advice to every Tom, Dick and Harry that shows up trying to romance some milkmaid, and you should be well aware of that Prince Philip - ”

“She’s not some milkmaid.” Diaval objects, before a red-faced Philip can answer the reprimand. “And I’m not…” he sighs, resists the urge to drag his fingers through his hair, “she’s my partner and I just want… I just want the first time to be special. I’d hate to _assume_ I knew what I was doing.”

That softens her gaze considerably. It’s as if Diaval has said exactly the right thing; he can almost physically see her disapproval receding, till all that’s left is the slight upturn of her mouth.

“Well then, I knew I liked something about you. I take it you’re not quite human dear?”

“Well…uh no. How did you…”

She waves his questions away. “You’re looking rather mysterious love, which with your clothes and those markings on your face and chest. Besides, you called it ‘mating’. Now,” she gives a decisive clap of her hands. “What do you already know?”

Diaval smiles at her brusque, no nonsense manner and how little the information phases her.

“Um, well I know some basic body parts. Most of them actually, her eyes, and mouth and neck and breasts - all the way down to her feet.” He can’t help but be a little proud of this. And all in one night too.

A spark of amusement lights up Madame Alfonse’s eyes. “I see. Philip taught you I suppose?”

“Mm hm,” Diaval answers, clapping him on the back in amiable pride this time. The poor boy was beginning to look quiet red again, though not altogether displeased.

“Right, well did he explain to you the functions of those body parts? How they contribute to mating and why? The stages of mating in humans? What arousal looks like in a woman, what arousal _is?_ When it’s safe to actually begin mating? Anything about her special zones?” 

Blinking at the prospective flood of new information, he shakes his head vigorously and Madame Alfonse gives Philip a rather unimpressed look.

“ _Oh_ no, hang on, I wasn’t being irresponsible,” Philip defends, raising placating hands, “I just thought it might be easier, and wiser and more reliable if _you_ went into the technicalities of the process. His partner is…someone I know. Aaand, apart from that, while there are things I’ve seen with Aurora, I can’t exactly swear as to what’s unique to her and what’s experienced by women everywhere, or why.”

“Hmm,” Madame Alfonse gives him a considering look and then a small approving nod, “well that’s very sensible of you your highness. Too many people assume that knowing something about one person means the same holds true for every other person they meet. And I suppose, it’s not your fault you don’t have that kind of information anyhow. Learning about women isn’t exactly something they teach to young princes as part of how to take over and maintain kingdoms is it?” she gives him a knowing smile and Philip relaxes at her understanding. Smiling back, he shakes his head. 

Madame Alfonse turns back to Diaval. “Alright, tall, dark and handsome, did he tell you about any of the inside bits as well?”

Diaval’s eyes go wide. As large as saucers. As large as a Raven who’s glimpsed the biggest, fattest, shiniest coin he’s ever seen in his life. 

Slowly, he turns towards Philip. “There are inside bits _too?_ ”

Philip looks just as surprised as him though, mouth hanging open slightly before he gives Diaval a shocked kind of shrug.

“well let’s see if you recognize this,” she says, speaking only to Philip now, as he’s the one with ‘experience’, “about one and a half, two inches in, on her front wall, a rough little spot about the size of a dime?”

Philip shakes his head, still looking rather surprised. 

Madame Alfonse smiles warmly at both of them. “Alright, have a seat darlings, it’s never too late to learn new things.”

Both blushing, they do exactly that, Philip curious and Diaval beyond excited to learn about places so special they were _inside_ her and Philip, who’d been married for _two_ _years_ hadn’t even _known_.

“Now,” she says, peering down at them from behind her spectacles, I must first commend you on your courage in coming here. And your humility. Too many men just figure they’ll bumble their way through and whatever they happen to know is all there is to know.”

“Do most men not know what they should know?” Diaval asks, curious now. It seems a strange way to go about any activity, how much more one as important as mating. Philip too has perked up, listening closely for her answer.

“Oh, my dear,” she says, positively smirking at him now, “You can fill whole books with the things men only wish they knew about a woman’s body. Now, let’s start from the top shall we?”

***

About thirty minutes in, “Writing this this down are we prince Philip?” it’s said as a joke, complete with a light laugh and a glance in the prince’s direction. 

Hilariously, he is, brows furrowed, face serious as he simply nods and jots down her every word.

Diaval can’t even take the mickey out of him.

He’s writing every word down too.

***

When he gets back to the moors that night, he feels like a completely different man.

… Enlightened.

***

He doesn’t see Maleficent that night.

She’s visiting the mother nest – a trip he’d begged off of so that he could go and see Philip, though he hadn’t told her why he wanted the day. He thinks she’d assumed he was feeling unwell by her small frown and the gentle touch to his forehead.

He’s the furthest thing from unwell as he tucks himself into their nest with some of the books Madame Alfonse had given him;

When he goes to sleep with a smile.

***

She’s back the following evening when he returns to the moors after an evening stroll.

The impact of seeing her stops him in his tracks. Just… seeing her _home,_ looking so beautiful and elegant and strong; with her familiar staff, and eyes and horns; _smiling_ at him as she comes closer.

“Where did you disappear off to?” she asks, curious, in that silky-smooth tone he loves, and Diaval just shrugs and reaches for her. 

His hands land on her waist, pulling her gently into him. Maleficent comes easily, eyes bright as her body lines up against his. She’s smiling the small smile she reserves just for him as he enfolds her into the deepest hug.

They’ve been getting better at this – these simple, affectionate touches. He loves the way her arms tighten around his back, the way she turns her face into the warmth of him; her quiet hum of amused pleasure. He squeezes gently around her waist; he loves knowing how much she enjoys that he’s one of the very few beings alive that treats her with absolutely no fear despite how much he respects her.

When they part, they don’t go far, bodies still pressed together, Maleficent still in the circle of his arms. 

“Hi,” he says softly, drinking in the sight of her. He’s charmed by the way her eyes are sparkling at him, brighter than any gold coin; the smile restrained to the corners of her mouth. “I’ve missed you” he adds, earnest and sincere. 

She’s only been gone for a day.

Her smile breaks free, warm and delighted, but her eyes take on a mischievous gleam. “Ah, I suppose you’ve bumped your head then?” she pretends to check it for good measure.

Diaval grins. She’s parroting him, from that moment two years ago when she’d returned from the dark fey and rescued Aurora from plummeting to her death. He’d asked the same thing in response to her open declaration that she’d missed him.

“You’re not going to let me forget that are you?”

“Mm – well _clearly_ the only way one could possibly miss their companion of almost twenty years was if they were in danger of a concussion so, I’m merely taking precautions. You might have fallen from a very tall tree trying to pluck apples and landed on your head. Again.”

He snorts with laughter and leans his forehead against hers, reveling in the warmth of her skin against his. In the way she leans into him despite all her teasing and closes her eyes, eyelashes brushing against his cheek. “That only happened once, for the record and not only have I become much better at climbing trees in this form, I haven’t bumped my head even a little, thank you very much. I just missed you” He whispers at the end, soft with affection.

She smiles against his mouth, captures his lips in a gentle kiss.

Another fairly new development to a relationship spanning almost two decades.

One Diaval rather likes.

They stay like this for long moments – kissing languidly, lips sliding soft against lips, touches aching and reverent – until she pulls away with a quiet sigh and cups his face in her hands. “I’ve missed you too,” she breathes against his mouth, and Diaval can’t help but kiss her again.

For the first time when they part for air, he lets his lips find the line of her “jaw”, presses light kisses down her “neck”, feels the way her “pulse” jumps against his lips. “Diaval? what are you doing?” she murmurs, voice huskier than usual. When she pulls out of the circle of his arms, he lets her and tries not to take it as a rejection.

He wants to slide his hands into his pockets and shrink and then realizes that these pants have no pockets. And, even if they did, he has nowhere to hide from her curious green gaze.

“I’m…”

He hasn’t been imagining it, is the thing – the desire in her eyes. The way they’ve both seemed not to know what to do about it in the six months since they confessed that they had feelings for each other that went so far beyond just those between a mistress and her servant. When they proceeded to become a mated couple in almost every way but actually mating.

The possibility of _more_ is always alive between them; Hovering over them as they hold hands, or cuddle together in the Rowan tree; deliciously heady in the air when they kiss and lightly touch, reaching out for this thing without quite knowing how to seize hold of it.

Or maybe… not being ready to. Not on his part. Not until today.

He wants… to be good for her. Wants to give her everything she needs – Everything she doesn’t even know she wants. 

Wants her flying even if she didn’t have wings.

“I’m trying something new.” It comes out firm and determined and an eyebrow slowly quirks, but she also looks…pleased, by his new-found boldness. Intrigued, as she tilts her head ever so slightly to the side in regarding him. It’s a distinctly bird-like action, subtle as it is, and the fact that his mannerisms are rubbing off on her, warm his heart like nothing else. 

It gives him the courage to add, “I, um, don’t think we need to wait anymore.” 

And _that_ sharpens her gaze on him in an instant, infinitesimal tilt gone as understanding comes. 

“Oh? Is that a fact?” she draws near to him again with the kind of focused intensity predators usually reserve for their prey, complete with the image of her mantling wings. Diaval swallows fruitlessly against the dryness in his mouth, his heart suddenly jack-rabbiting in his chest. Dumbly he nods, so emphatically it brings a smirk to her lips, the perfect degree of wicked fondness that has him feeling weak at the knees. 

She considers him seriously though, a finger coming to rest against his chest, right over his thrumming heart. It burns against his suddenly overheated skin. “Are you sure Diaval? That you want this? You understand that this isn’t something I require from you? That I consider you my mate either way?”

Diaval nods but his human body does a strange thing and shrugs at the same time.

Maleficent’s eyes narrow, dissatisfied with the apparent uncertainty implied by that answer and Diaval is quick to say, “No, I understand Mis- Maleficent” she prefers it now, when he calls her by her name. Likes it even. He’d called her Mal once and despite the affected, long-suffering sigh he’d received in response, she’d wrapped her wings around him willingly enough when he pounced on her, laughing as he rolled them into a comfortable hug on a bed of wildflowers. “I want to though. um… actually mate with you. Physically.” 

There’s a blush rising in his cheeks, that only deepens when she practically purrs: “Well, well.” That wicked smirk is back on her face. The edge of her nail is suddenly sharp against his chest, parting his shirt like the finest silk as it trails lightly down, down… 

Diaval groans against the tingling, teasing trail and announces, “Alright, I’m going to kiss you now.” And then he does, tasting her quiet laughter as it spills warm into his mouth.

When he draws her to him again, she comes willingly. When he kisses her, she responds, heated and eager, comfortable in his arms. 

It makes him feel like he’s floating, the sheer amount of trust she places in him after everything she’s been through. 

Instinct takes over then as he parts her lips with his, licks in urgently. Maleficent gasps into his mouth and, coming back to himself, his first instinct is to draw back and check to see whether she’s okay.

But as he makes to move, she grips him by his waist, holding him in place, talons digging in and murmurs, “Do that again,” in a husky whisper that has his knees threatening to buckle.

So, he does. And Again. And again. Until she’s moaning softly into his mouth and chasing his tongue; until she’s picked up the rhythm of it for herself. Until she’s gripping his feather soft hair and _she’s_ kissing _him_. And gods, if he doesn’t love a strong-willed woman who isn’t afraid to go after what she wants. Especially when what she wants is him.

When he breaks away, it’s only because his lungs are burning. The sound of their heavy breathing is loud in his ears. He’s shaking a little, but he thinks it’s the good kind of shaking. She’s got that look in her eyes again, the hungry one. But for the first time in a long time, he’s not afraid to see it. Her eyes are dark, her ‘pupils’ the kind of blown-out round that he now knows is a good sign so…

When she smiles again, a smile that’s more of a smirk, he feels desire coil taut in his stomach and _pull_. 

“So,” she leans in again, gives him a kiss that’s soft but decidedly full of promise. “What else did you want to try?”

Diaval smiles, blushes, curls his arms around her lower back and hugs her to him again, “well there are a few things…”

“Oh?” Her eyes glint playful, then intense as they track back down to his lips.

“Yeah” he whispers, before leaning in to kiss her again.

***

Wallerbogs but It’s hard to think in coherent sentences when she looks like this and is _looking_ _at_ _him_ like this.

In the middle of a lot of kissing and sucking and _biting_ \- on her part, they'd divested themselves of most of their clothing and Maleficent is lying underneath him, resting on a bed of soft moss and colorful flowers. He’d undone her wrap at some point, and the long, silken strands of her hair tumbled down to fan about her. The effect was immediate. She looked younger, softer. More like the fairy who used to dance with the water sprites and frolic through the moors; less like Maleficent: mistress of Evil; a stupid human title anyway.

Diaval had ran his hands through the strands of her hair, awed at how soft it really was. How easily she’d let him, submitting to the instinctive grooming and petting that had occurred with a fond quirk to her lips. 

Moonlight washes over this little hidden nook in the moors, empty but for them, highlighting her already ethereal beauty and spilling over miles and miles of flawless skin; over lush curves and dips and valley’s he’s never seen before. Her eyes are even more brilliant like this, shining gold in the moonlight; softer than he’s ever seen them, her gaze a tender touch that runs all over him.

Diaval shivers helplessly under it.

All of her is soft like this. And so _warm_ where she’s pressed against him. Now that he’s got her here, all of her, like this, he’s not quite sure what to do with himself.

Or rather, he _does know_ but he’s… suddenly terrified he’ll mess it all up somehow. That _this_ is where everything goes wrong. That this is when she realizes she doesn’t actually want to be with him. Not like this. Not _forever._ And Raven’s mate for life.

It’s one thing to say, ‘I consider you my mate’ and be that technically. It’s a whole other thing _to_ _mate_ and be that in reality.

And how does he even know if humans are like Fae anyway!? What if everything he’s learnt, everything he thinks he knows is wrong!?

He jumps a bit when warm hands land on his chest. They run up to stroke across his jaw, his cheek, the crescent-shaped scar on the side of his face. He closes his eyes, melting into her touch. Those gentle fingers tangle in his hair, draw him closer to her so that her lips can press a kiss to his cheek and then rest against his ear, as she pulls him into a warm hug. “Alright darling?” She murmurs. 

Her breath is hot against his ear, tickles where it brushes and he shivers again, chokes down on a moan and nods.

“Anytime then Diaval.” She tugs lightly at his earlobe with sharp teeth and he shudders.

Right. okay.

“Right, okay.” He mumbles. He sits up between her legs. Resting on his heels, he looks down at the horned goddess watching him through half-lidded eyes, at her gorgeous, soft, beautiful body. ‘Right, yes, okay.”

He licks his lips nervously….

And does absolutely nothing.

…

Doesn’t move a muscle. 

…

Doesn’t even blink really.

“Diaval?” she asks, when his prolonged stillness continues, concern in her tone now.

His eyes flick up to confused emerald green eyes and urgh, he really is ruining this already.

He worries at his lip with his teeth. Blinks through eyes that feel wider than they should be. “Right. sorry. I’m just…going to…mate you now.” 

He sounds ridiculous, he knows. It’s no wonder her eyebrows are rising to her hairline but – oh – she’s also pursing her lips against the hint of a smile. “That is the general idea, yes.”

He blushes and wishes there was a tree he could bury his head in.

“Um, yes, so, here I go.” He says it like a warning, complete with showing her his uplifted hands and wriggling his human fingers as if to say: ‘if you were planning on running…now would be a good time.’

Maleficent doesn’t do much more than arch an eyebrow, that hint of a smile remaining.

“Alright.” She consents with a smoky agreeability that just ruins him.

“Alright.” he croaks.

And Maleficent’s eyes _gleam_ and his breath catches and – 

He does _nothing_ because – 

His heart is racing inside his chest and his head is spinning and – 

“Diaval” she says and her voice is firm enough to ground him again as his gaze snaps to hers. He barely realizes his hands are being moved until there’s soft curved flesh under his palms. He gasps a little, eyes widening as he realizes just where she’s brought his hands. 

Instinctively, he squeezes - _gently_ , and watches her eyes flutter shut, her head tip back as she arches into his touch. “Diaval” she sighs and the desire writ in his name pools inside him like warm honey.

He blinks, heart fluttering as some of his anxiety bleeds into wonder. 

There’s a soft blush stealing over her cheeks, her breaths deepening as he touches her mindlessly, no technique to the way he cups and strokes the curve of her breasts - slow – no thought in his mind other than… _she’s so soft…_

He’s playing with them really. There’s no other way to describe the way he tests the weight of one, then the other, then watches them bounce, fascinated. 

But she’s responding to him is the thing. A low, pleased hum building in her throat as his hands slide down, linger over the satin curve of her stomach, then stroke down her thighs, all the way to her feet – reverent – and back up, thumbing gently at the buds on her chest which harden into yearning points. Maleficent sighs, arching against him a little more. She's actually – and he isn't even _doing_ anything _,_ not really. But when her eyes open and find his, her gaze is warm and dark, gold swirling through. The corner of her mouth curves up in a small, amused smile.

Diaval practically sags in relief. 

“I think I’m scared,” he blurts out quietly, “about how things might change after this. Aren’t you scared?” 

She blinks at him. Then, a knowing light dawns in her eyes. “I would be,” she admits. Her hand comes to rest over one of his, thumb stroking soft over his wrist. “But – “

“But?” he prompts gently. He needs to know.

She considers him for a moment, staggeringly fond. 

“But it’s you Diaval. You've been my closest friend. My most faithful companion. I know I'm safe with you…” she pauses, tilts her head slightly, a rare expression of vulnerability and tenderness on her face. She reaches up to stroke his hair back from his forehead, rests her thumb against his crescent shaped scar. “I hope you know you're safe with me too."

He sighs and closes his eyes. Nestling into her open palm, he lets those words sink, soothing, into his heart.

The most powerful fae in the world feels safe…because she’s with him.

This woman who cared so deeply no matter how much she tried to hide it. Who was betrayed in the worst way by the man she loved; wounded by him, crippled by him, darkened and embittered because of him, was here, lying beneath Diaval without fear, without guard, with no wall of thorns around her heart; with trust and vulnerability radiating from her. 

She trusts him. 

She _trusts_ him. 

She trusts _him._

He couldn’t think of a more precious gift if he tried. 

Slowly, he feels the peace from that trust seep into him, loosen the coils of fear around his heart and lungs. He takes what feels like his first easy breath since he laid eyes on her tonight.

He opens his eyes, lifts his face from her palm to look at her. 

She smiles at him a little, not at all put out or worried. Just warm, as she strokes over that particular scar, then down his nose with a finger - the way she likes to do when he has a beak - across the arches of his cheeks. Comfortable as she waits for him to decide whether he really is ready for this or not; and that trust, that ease, that certainty on her part, shatters the last of his fears and second- guesses and misgivings. 

It’s her, he realizes.

It’s Maleficent.

He _is_ safe with her.

She's never been one to mince her words. If she didn't want him, she would have told him. She could have left at any time in the past twenty plus years he’d been serving her. Or sent him away at any moment; she could have decided she no longer needed his services the minute Stefan was dead and she had her wings back and yet…

And yet here he is.

And here they are.

He thinks he understands.

He _does_ trust her. 

He trusts and understands that she doesn’t need him to be anything he’s not. That she doesn’t need anything more from him than he can give right now. she just needs…

 _Him_.

And if there’s one thing Diaval has absolutely excelled at, it’s giving Maleficent what she needs.

His touch is tentative, but also, somehow, more certain; filled with renewed purpose as he bends to kiss her. She responds beautifully, weaving him into lush, languid kisses that make him feel blissful. Expansive... As though he cannot begin to know where she ends, and he begins. 

They lose themselves in these kisses for a long while, until a rising urgency prompts him to shower the rest of her with attention. To explore the long graceful column that is her neck, skin like warm marble under his mouth and tongue. He nips at her pulse point, traces sharply defined collarbones and dips his tongue into the hollow of them. His ears fill with the rhythm of her breaths, slow and deep as she settles into a stream of comfortable pleasure, exhaling the way she sighs when sinking into the heated pools, uneven at the points where he surprises her, hitching rough whenever he does something she really likes. 

Like bites. Not even really hard. Just the pressure of his teeth against pale skin, the first rush of red like a rose in bloom, fading back into perfect fairness.

He maps her out; maps out the hills and valleys, and rolling curves of her, explores this strange new land hitherto barred by towering thorns with a dedication and fearlessness that leaves them both breathless; leaves her trembling helplessly under him, wings exclamation points of pleasure promising future ecstasy.

The first time he takes her carefully into his mouth is met with a sharp intake of breath, so sharp he stills until she curls her fingers into his hair, urges him with gentle tugs and near silent whimpers to keep suckling.

He does, dizzy with joy, hazy with desire as he starts stroking her other breast too for good measure; watches the blush bleeding into her cheeks spread down to her chest.

He tilts his head up to drink in all her reactions; catches hints of her fangs as her head tips back and her mouth falls open in silent pleasure.

Who would have thought he could be fond of someone with such sharp teeth?

That the press of talons into his arms, then his back as he runs his teeth over her, squeezes a little less gently, would feel like such a benediction; Would excite him rather than scare him. Bring him pleasure rather than pain.

He can feel them slipping over every single disc of his spine, catching, scraping down in lines of tingling fire that never break the skin. 

That never hurt him. Even in the haze of passion.

Who would have thought that he could love so thoroughly, what could destroy him? A person that embodied everything he’d ever feared in order to survive.

Who would have thought he’d trust her of all people not to hurt him? Trust her most, more than anyone.

Just as she trusts him.

He bites the sensitive, pretty pink point of a hardened nipple – pinches the other – and she arches under him with a sharp, broken cry of “Diaval!” that sets his entire world on fire. 

Burning.

Lit up and glorious, as if the love in his heart is its own magic, lighting up the moors. 

“Diaval,” she says again, and he recognizes the plea in her murmur, in the grasping reach for him, as much as Maleficent will ever let herself plead for anything.

He groans helplessly and releases her with a wet pop that sends shivers down his spine. They’ve been building towards something; he understands that now. Understands all the descriptions of this slow rise to a climatic end point – like bursting through the clouds on a bright summer day and basking in dazzling sunlight.

He grasps her reaching hand and tangles their fingers together. Holds her firm and steady as he presses their joint hands gently down into the cool moss.

As he drapes his body carefully over her. 

“If – if I do anything that feels uncomfortable, or if anything hurts…”

It takes her a moment to process the words, blinking up at him dazedly, pupils as big and dark as he’s ever seen them. 

Then she smiles. 

A smile that could melt the thickest frost, the most bitter winter snow.

A smile Diaval’s summer heart is no match for; that only makes his spring love take root and blossom and grow.

“I’ll let you know,” she promises.

He’s glad he understands now. That he’s found this perfect clarity. Even drunk off of the taste of her, the touch of her, the feel of her, the sound of her.

That _smile -_

That he doesn’t have to perform, doesn’t have to _prove_ himself. Not here. Not with her.

All he has to do is love her, all of her – with his eyes and his mouth and his hands – the way he already loves all of her with his heart, even if he’s never said it.

“Diaval.” 

“Hmm?” he hums, more than a little captivated by her. 

Ravens do so like shiny things. And he’s never seen anything that shines as brilliantly as Maleficent in this moment.

She squeezes his hand, where their fingers are still clasped.

“Please get back here.”

He smiles, wonder focused by renewed purpose. It’s the first time in _twenty_ _years_ he’s _ever_ heard her say the word please. How could he possibly refuse her anything after that? 

"Anything for you mistress" he teases and before she can come back to herself and threaten to turn him into a toad or something worse for his cheek, he seizes her mouth in another kiss.

***

He thinks he owes Philip a drink. 

Two for Madame Alfonse.

Or maybe they’ll name their firstborn child after them. 

Maleficent lies beneath him, sated beyond words, almost beyond consciousness, her wings limp with pleasure. 

She can't even move them to cover him where he lies slumped over her, sweat damp and still trembling. 

For long moments he isn't aware of anything but their panting breaths drifting into the quiet night. 

The rise and fall of her chest. The beat of her heart. His entire world narrowed down to her and the peacefulness of this moment. 

It feels… 

Monumental.

As though they’ve caused a shift in the very fabric of the universe, subtly altering everything they’ve ever known and thought they knew. Like everything is the same, but somehow, not; like everything is different but somehow _isn’t_. 

It’s like living in a whole new world. But, also, like maybe this was the way things were always meant to be.

 _This_ moment…

This feels like coming _home_.

By slow degrees he becomes aware of the slender fingers carding through his hair. He closes his eyes; melts into the touch.

It takes him another few moments to realize that the vibrations he feels aren't from his trembling - she's _laughing_. 

It’s such a rare event that his head immediately pops up so that he can witness it in person.

"What is it?" he murmurs, mouth already curving in response, voice hoarse from all the vocalizations it's been put through tonight. 

"Well aren't you just full of surprises." She drawls. Smirks. Laughs again when he blushes and hides his face against her neck. 

"How long have you been planning this?" she questions, wonder in her voice. 

It makes him feel even more bashful as he confesses, “A while.” It had taken him a couple of weeks to understand what his human body was trying to tell him it wanted. A couple more before he realized he had no clue how to go about it. A couple more before he worked out where to get help and then, the courage to ask for it. 

Speaking of courage to ask for things, he lifts his head up now to check, "um, how was it?" 

She stretches, looking languid and sated and so, so beautiful. 

"Can't you tell?" she teases, wings fluttering slightly now that his full weight isn’t on her. There’s laughter in her eyes. 

And Diaval grins to see her feeling so playful, after. So transparently happy. He shifts a bit with nervous hope. "I _can_ but uh, I wouldn’t want to assume anythin’." 

He can't read the look she gives him then, which is part of why he's stunned out of his mind when she murmurs, "Thank you Diaval." 

As though it is completely normal. 

As though she says thank you every day. 

He can’t do much more than blink at her, open-mouthed with surprise.

She seems even more amused by his shock and decides to confound him even further by lifting up and planting a soft kiss square on his cheek.

“That was wonderful. _You_ are wonderful." She whispers against his lips.

And _oh-_

If he doesn't just _melt_ at that _,_ sinking boneless back into her arms. 

"Yeah?" he can't help but check. He's so rarely shy - he's a _raven_ , it's not in his nature - he's never had anything to be shy _about._

He's shy now, cuddled up in her arms like some precious thing, cheeks still pink at the warm appreciation that had been in her gaze. 

"Yes Diaval" she affirms, voice softer than he's ever heard it. “That was…” she laughs a little, “I couldn’t have imagined that it would be…” She seems to be at a loss for words and he lets that settle inside him, swell inside his heart until he can barely breathe against the fullness of it. Then he nods happily and buries his face in her neck. Wraps his arms tight around her.

“For me too.” He whispers.

She lets him hide his shy self with a quiet laugh, working her wings free to curl them around their bodies like a warm, heavy blanket against the cool, evening air. 

He hums in appreciation. 

He loves her wings. Loves the weight and silkiness of them. 

Loves how they're this special place that so few get to experience, save him and Aurora. 

Loves the way it feels like just another way for her to hold him close to her heart.

Loves feeling her breathe against him. Loves the way he rises and falls with her. Rides or dies with her, flies and fights with her. 

Loves the way he is with her, always.

One of these days, when the realization isn’t so blazing new in his chest - isn’t so diamond sharp and hope-filled shards cutting – the difference between loving her and being _in_ love with her - he’ll tell her.

For now, he kisses against sweat damp skin, content that in this moment at least, she is completely his.

***

“I have a confession to make.” He mumbles a some time later, secure in this feeling of cherished security and half-lulled to sleep already by the rhythms of her he is surrounded by.

The hand that had been lightly carding through his hair doesn’t stop, even as she prompts him: “Oh?" 

"Mmhm. Earlier when I couldn't… earlier when I was struggling to…"

"Perform?" she drawls, sounding far too amused. 

So Diaval huffs and pinches her bottom, earning a surprised squawk which dissolves into bright, incredulous laughter; a tinkling, musical sound that outshines even her quiet chuckling from earlier. It reminds him, adorably, of Aurora, and it’s a struggle to pretend sternness when he admonishes: “Behave please, mistress." He just barely manages but there’s nothing he can do about the smile that ruins the effect.

"Anyway." her head shifts and smiling gold eyes look down to where his head is resting on her shoulder. " I wasn’t just afraid that things would be different…after. Mostly, I was afraid that despite the research I’d done -” a perfect eyebrow lifts at this, suitably impressed and Diaval only just resists the raven instinct to puff out his chest for pleasing his mate with how clever he is. “– despite the research I’d done, that I wouldn’t be _good_ at this part. I was afraid that…" he finds her hand under her wings, plays mindlessly with her fingers, so that he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. “Maybe we wouldn’t fit. And even if I was, even if we did… that you’d realize that I wasn’t really who you wanted… _what_ you wanted… that this wasn’t the way you wanted me… and you’d leave. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but…eventually. For someone who could give you…more. _Be_ more…than a Raven. Someone who could give you everything you deserve.” 

The fingers that had resumed carding through his hair stutter to a stop.

In fact, Maleficent’s whole body goes unnaturally still.

“It’s okay.” He reassures her gently, sighing. “I’m not scared anymore. I was being a bit of a silly bird I think.” He wraps himself even more securely around her, presses his lips to the curve of her neck and feels Maleficent’s body relax in response, a quiet breath slipping from her with the loosening of tension. 

“yes, you were.” She confirms for him, with a familiar sternness.

Diaval grins, lifting himself up to press a big, smacking kiss to an angled cheek. Maleficent tries to smother the immediate smile this prompts; she’s a firm believer in not encouraging his antics. But Diaval needs no encouragement to press a less comical kiss to her chin. Her neck. Wriggles his way down so that he can start from the soft round of her stomach, mouthing with gentle reverence. 

Maleficent sighs his name, fingers finding their way back into his hair, scratching gently at the base of his scalp in just that way she’s discovered he likes. A shiver of delighted pleasure races down his spine. He feels the atmosphere shift around them again, can sense her smile when she adds a second hand to the first, gripping lazily at his hair. 

He doesn’t know why he says it. 

Or rather he does.

(Because he’s a self-sacrificing fool. And he just wants her to be happy.) 

“I would understand you know…” he murmurs, kissing his way upwards. Maleficent gives a distracted hum. “If one day, you did find someone else. Someone taller and stronger maybe. With Magic. And bigger wings.” He jokes, trying to lighten the impact of his words as he nuzzles into the valley between her breasts. It doesn’t work. His words fall on them like an iron net.

His smile fades against her skin. Maleficent has gone still again.

She removes her hands from his hair.

He pushes himself up. Presses a kiss to the skin over her heart and let’s his lips linger until it feels like the imprint of them remain even after he lifts his head to look at her.

Green-gold eyes are watching him. Confused. Wary.

He looks down.

Focuses on placing his hand on the curve of her ribs, his thumb stroking the soft skin just under her breast. Comforting.

“I would understand if the day ever came… if in ten years or twenty years, you found someone better suited to you… I would never hold it against you if you chose them.” The words sit heavy in his throat, throb painfully in his chest, but he wants her to know because he means them. They hurt and he means them, and he’d mean them a hundred years from now if that was what it took to keep her happy because Maleficent deserves…all the happiness in the world. Her hand covers his, tension in the way her fingers press. He stops stroking. It takes him a good long while before he can meet her eyes again. He’s never seen them a shade of green quite this deep before. He’s never seen Maleficent looking quite so vulnerable. So bewildered. 

She sits up slowly, wings folding themselves tight and tense at her back. When she speaks, she does so stiffly, with a halting uncertainty he’s never heard. “Why would…I thought you wanted… I thought we were… don’t ravens mate for life?” 

The surprised splutter that escapes him is embarrassingly close to a noise that Philip would make. 

He stares at her, at the serious, searching questions in her eyes and feels his shoot full of tears. There’s a blinding hope rising in his chest. 

“Yes. Yes, we do. But I didn’t know if you…” when he blinks the tears overflow. 

The frown on Maleficent’s face eases considerably. When she leans in towards him slightly, concerned, he takes her hand and presses a lingering kiss to the back of it. 

“Every minute with you is a gift to me,” he whispers against her skin, and doesn’t imagine the sharp intake of breath that accompanies his words.

He turns her hand over and presses another long kiss to her palm. “I would spend every single day with you if I could; the rest of my life even, because I want all the time with you I can get. Even when that means being turned into a wolf and having mudballs magicked into my face.” 

“That only happened once.” She murmurs, apparently not too moved to argue. 

Diaval’s laugh is throaty and heartfelt; more movement than sound, and finally he gets the courage to look at her again. 

Golden eyes watch him with something that looks a lot like wonder through the blur of his tears. It’s her ‘realisation face’ and he just feels so unbearably fond seeing it.

“one time too many.” He counters with a smile. Then, before he can stop himself: “I will never want anyone else the way I want you.”

It’s everything he promised himself he wouldn’t say until he was sure she was ready to hear it. Until he was sure she _wanted_ to hear it, from him. But he’s beyond fear; beyond caution; Beyond everything but a raw vulnerability that scares him, even as it feels like a weight is being lifted off his chest. There’s a melting mass of warmth spilling into him, right where his heart used to be, and he doesn’t know what else to do with the fullness but pour it out. 

Her eyes widen, black edging out the gold of her pupils, and he drinks in the sight. Lets himself appreciate the fact that she isn’t turning away; or flinching with a quiet - “Diaval.”; Or waving irritated fingers, green magic threading through warningly at the first hint of putting a name to this thing they have.

But the fact that she had done those things once was all the more reason to make it clear -

“You don’t have to be bound to me in any way that you don’t want to be, whether Ravens mate for life or not.” He does look away then, down for a brief moment, his stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots as if his very being was revolting against the idea. Then he meets her gaze again. “It’s enough for me if you understand Mal: I’ll always be yours, even if you’re not always mine.” 

She does understand, he can see; Eyes wide and every part of her still as she looks at him. The prettiest dusting of pink on those sleek, sharp cheeks.

Diaval doesn’t look down this time. He doesn’t look away. 

He’s not ashamed of how he feels for her.

Even if she doesn’t feel the same. Even if all she wanted for the foreseeable future was some companionship and pleasure with someone she trusted as at least a friend. Even if that was what someone as practical as Maleficent meant when taking a mate, instead of anything as whimsical as notions of true love – he wants her to see it, the emotion swelling and throbbing inside his chest - 

The truth of how he loves he -

Soft lips crush against his. Diaval jolts, startled, but settles with a whimper when her hands gently cup his face. Everything about her is suddenly so achingly gentle as she presses those full red lips to his. Then again. And again. Slowly. Over and over; so tenderly, his eyes well up again, tears slipping down his cheeks even with his eyes closed.

She only pulls away when he gasps softly, his chest tight because he’d forgotten to breathe. She wipes unhurriedly at his tears, watches him steadily while Diaval opens his eyes, his bottom lip trembling a little. He finds only softness. Can see in her eyes the tenderness he’d felt in her kiss; a tenderness that is dizzying in both its depth and intensity.

“ _I_ will never want anyone else, the way I want you.”

Diaval stares – stunned.

The sudden rush of joy that floods him is almost painful.

The gaze roaming over his face is liquid gold.

“How do you know?” When he finally finds his voice, it is weak, his heart beating so hard it he feels a little bit. “Forever is a long time.”

“It is.” She admits. 

The air between them feels heavy, pregnant with meaning and feelings and importance. Time itself seems to slow and stop under the weight of it all, until it feels like they are the only two living people in the whole world. 

“But Love is forever, and I am in love with you Diaval.”

His gasp then is so, so loud in this stillness. 

But his heart beats louder still when her mouth curls up in the faintest hint of a smirk, “And this, despite my best efforts to the contrary. Only you would be stubborn enough to make a woman fall in love with you when she doesn’t want to.”

Diaval barks a laugh but in the next instant finds himself tearing up again. 

Maleficent’s smirk softens into a smile to see it. She strokes a finger fondly down his cheek. “My, my. Aren’t we a sensitive little bird tonight.”

But she leans forward to press a kiss to each of her sensitive little bird’s eyes; takes his face into her warm hands and presses one to his forehead. Diaval receives each kiss as a benediction, the token of her love it is meant as, and basks in these expressions of grace as she rests her forehead against his.

“You love me?” he whispers; because he wants, needs to be sure. He can’t quite believe he’s heard it from ‘Mistress there’s no such thing as true love’s kiss’. 

Maleficent laughs softly, as though she can hear his thoughts.

“I love you, dear one.” She confirms. “More than I’ve ever loved any man.” 

The _even Stefan_ goes unsaid but rings pleasantly between them.

He sags towards her, weak suddenly with what it feels like to be loved by Maleficent, wanting only to be closer. She embraces him, holding him snug and warm and _close_ as though she’d been doing it forever. As though she’d wanted to hold him just as much as he’d wanted to be held. 

He closes his eyes, nuzzles against the slope of her collarbone, sinks into the hug. Feels her press a kiss to his hair.

“I think… I’ve been in love with you for a long time now.” She whispers and Diaval sighs blissfully and leans impossibly closer to her.

“You are so kind Diaval. So patient and attentive, selflessly giving so much of yourself without asking for anything in return. You saw me, when no one else could because you searched for the real me when no one else did. Through all my bitterness and rage, you’ve never judged me or wavered in the face of others’ judgements of me. Maybe that is why you’ve never truly feared me, the way even my friends and those who raised me did.” He looks up then, because there’s something there, a sliver of pain he suspects she’s long since buried. Maleficent looks into his concerned eyes and smiles fondly at him, stroking gently down his cheek. “It’s fine. Even _I_ thought I was given over to evil; surrendered to the darkness in my heart. I can’t blame them too much for thinking the same.”

Diaval frowns lightly. “Well… You can blame them a little...”

Maleficent’s smirk is back, touched with amusement. “Maybe just a little.”

Diaval sits up within her embrace and presses his forehead to hers.

“you’re not evil.” He mutters, a little put out at the suggestion that anyone could think otherwise, even knowing the terrible things Stefan had done to provoke such a response.

Maleficent chuckles. “ _I_ know that Diaval. I know that now.”

He huffs, and Maleficent chuckles even more and presses her full red lips to his. “Shall I add valiant defender to the reasons I love you?”

Diaval preens only a little bit. A very, very little bit, while Maleficent’s smile only grows.

“I love the way you challenge me to be better constantly, without leaving me to carry the burden of that ideal alone. How, even when I've upset you, or disappointed you – even when you're angry with me - you've never left me. I can trust that you will never leave me. I’ve cared for you as a friend for even longer than I’ve loved you, Diaval. You are my favorite man, in any form: Bird, human…wolf,” she smirks while he scoffs. “There's no other I would choose for my mate, no better I could have asked for. You’re so much stronger than you know Diaval”, she continues, suddenly completely serious, “you’ve lent me that strength more than once. I don’t need magic in a mate, I have magic enough for the two of us. I don’t need ‘bigger wings’” – change in tone that has Diaval flushing a bit. He’s pretty sure there’s a euphemism there somewhere but now’s not the time to avert his mind to that - “I like yours just fine. They’ve been good enough to be my wings for more than twenty years. I couldn’t have asked for more than that. I couldn’t have asked for more than you. I don’t need all the things in a mate you think I do to be happy…. I just need…you.” She whispers her last sentence, her breath brushing against his lips like a caress.

"Maleficent…" he whispers not sure how to express all the emotion that is suddenly welling up in his heart. It’s the most words he’s ever heard her say in twenty plus years and it’s not lost on him that they were all in praise of him _._

She strokes his cheek with her thumb, eyes breathtakingly soft as she leans back a little to see him clearly. “I would never leave you, even if mating was never part of the package, even if you hated this part and hadn’t wanted anything beyond holding hands and walking though the moors, I would still always pick _you_. I want you.” Her finger taps his cheek, once, twice, light. “okay?”

“…Okay” He kisses her finger, and wipes ineffectively at the tears that have blurred his gaze; he nods with conviction. “Okay.”

Her smile is blinding. 

Her embrace then is all encompassing - wings and arms and everything. She rubs gently at his back, while Diaval tries to breathe through the sudden wave of emotion that’s overtaken him without making ghastly sounds. This silly human form. Always leaking at weird times from its openings at the slightest hint of overwhelming emotion.

“Sorry m’crying so much. I can’t quite help it. But these are happy tears now, I swear.”

“For your sake, I should certainly hope so,” she murmurs drily, but presses a kiss to his forehead anyway. Diaval’s chest fills with warmth. “Don’t you dare get snot on my wings.”

“Hey now, I’m your f-favorite. You can’t take that back.”

Her chest moves in silent laughter. “Yes. Well, you are. Even when you're leaking unbecomingly… Or being unbearably cocky… and stubborn… and irritating -" she drawls. He knows what she’s doing, recognizes the mischief in her voice as she tries to tease him out of his tears- but for all that he still can’t help taking the bait with a watery, “hey now-”

“and fussy and vain – ”

" You were doing so well but now you've clearly gotten sidetracked - "

" and sarcastic and mischievous - "

" you're more mischievous than me!"

" and argumentative, and contrary, and grumbly."

" I'm not grumbly," he grumbles, pulling away so that he can fold his arms grumpily," I just feel like you're doing this whole declaration of love thing wrong"

Maleficent laughs throatily and then pounces. He’s on his back before he knows what’s happened, her leg hooking over his hip, as she smoothly pulls herself on top of him.

His hands go automatically to her hips to steady her, even as her wings stretch out to do the same. Just because she's being a big meanie doesn't mean he wants her to fall. 

She's grins at his pout and leans down to kiss it off him. Despite his best efforts at staying put out, he's grinning too by the time she pulls away, and chases her mouth. 

Maleficent pushes him gently back to the ground with a knowing smile. "Despite all of that, you beautiful bird," she murmurs, once more to make sure it really sinks in, “I love you." 

Now that the initial shock of hearing them has worn off a little, those three little words zip through him like a lightning strike. 

Like a bolt of, pure, raw magic. 

It burns away every what if, every fear, every insecurity remaining in his too-full heart, but in the end, settles in him with the gentleness of new fallen snow. Her eyes widen a little bit – almost as If she felt it too, the power in her words – and then they soften a moment after and he’s drowning in a sea of gold. 

“I love you,” she whispers, resting her forehead against his.

He's always known, even if he's never said the words – has felt what he feels now, for more than two whole decades. 

"I love you too." he whispers. 

It runs through her like an electric current and Maleficent shudders a little bit against him, open wings fluttering. He’s said it in metaphors and analogies. Said it every day for twenty years in the way he’s served at her side. Said it with kisses and his body curled around hers in their nest, but it’s the first time he’s ever said it with words. So certain. So clear. I love you. She pulls away to look at him – eyes dark and soft – as if to see if he means it.

He knows that she needs to be surer than most after Stefan. 

So, Diaval hopes she can see it; his entire heart and soul and the way he exists for her; the way it feels like maybe he was born just for this - Just to be soft and loving and kind to her. Just to love her and love her and love her for the rest of their lives. Whatever she does see brings tears to her eyes.

He remembers that once, someone lied about giving her true loves kiss, and sits up, slowly, making sure she’s settled comfortably in his lap. He replaces the lie of that kiss with his truth as his mouth presses softly against hers, Stefan’s malicious touch with his gentle hands, strokes across the joint where her wings meet her back - small silky feathers and sensitive skin – a place not even Aurora is allowed to touch; he gives pleasure for pain, healing for old wounds; lays Maleficent down and writes over the memory of her first false love with a true one; a love that burns as brightly between them as the stars in the night sky overhead. 

***

There's magic in the air. 

Golden tendrils so fine they hang suspended around them like mist, swirling slowly. Maleficent is too content to even attempt to control it.

Diaval could get used to this.

“Research, you said.” She all but purrs.

“Mmm” he kisses down her spine, then laughs as he nuzzles into the dip there. “you won’t _believe_ what I had to go through – ” He cuts off abruptly, suddenly realizing what dangerous ground he’s treading.

He’s too late though. Maleficent lifts her head and turns her body slightly so that she can meet his eyes, clear curiosity written over serene features. “Oh?”

Diaval swallows. Uh oh.

“well, um, it’s nothing very important.” He tries to wave it away.

Which only sharpens Maleficent’s interest in the subject. “No, I want to know.” she says easily, turning onto her back and pulling him down so that he’s draped across her. “How did my favorite Raven learn so much about pleasing a woman?” 

He blushes immediately, both at being referred to as her favorite anything, and the knowledge that he’s done such a good job of pleasing his mistress…his mate. The satisfied smirk she gives at seeing his pink cheeks really doesn’t help matters.

He can’t escape the question though, not now that she’s focused on his answer. Trying to evade now will only make her suspicious as well as curious. He’s caught. He has to come clean. He’s never lied to Maleficent and he doesn’t intend to start, especially not on their mating night.

“Well um,” he coughs, looking away briefly. “Ah well…about that…”

“You see…”

“Just bear in mind that there’s really no reason to overreact now…”

“Diaval” she interrupts his halting stops and starts, with a warning arch to her brow. “Speak please.” 

A little tingle zips down his spine. Gods, but he likes it when she gets all commanding and firm. 

He sighs, scratching the side of his nose a little sheepishly. “well, I may have… might have… maybe asked for help from, um…” he leans in to whisper in her ear.

…

“You went to who!?”

…

…

“You asked him _what_!?” 

Diaval winces a little as green magic flares to life in her eyes.

He gives a meek little shrug and what he hopes is a winning smile. 

It doesn’t work. A storm cloud darkens Maleficent’s features before a thought seems to halt it in it tracks. “wait…but that means…” all the color drains from her naturally pale face, “That everything we did… that Philip has been…and _Aurora.”_ Her face grows more horrified than he’s ever seen it.

With a small groan, she sinks back down and covers her face with her hands, shaking her head in mute agony. 

Diaval knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help cackling a little at the comical expression of dismay. That’s exactly how he felt thinking about his hatchling’s first time with the prince and he had been shoed away with a frown and an admonishment to: “stop being so silly please, Diaval. After all, it’s only mating.” It’s clear though, that now that Maleficent has a working conception of exactly all that goes into mating, it’s not ‘only’ anything.

“Oh gods, that thing you did with your tongue… and _Aurora_ …” She groans again through her hands and he breaks into the kind of whole-hearted cackle that got him a mud boulder to the face not too long ago.

“It’s not funny Diaval!” he hears, muffled.

But oh, oh it is. 

Not nearly as much fun when _she’s_ the one making the mistake of picturing them together, is it? Diaval himself, would have been more bothered by the idea – even now – if not for the time he’d spent with Philip two days ago. His new-found admiration for Aurora’s husband has helped to ease a lot of his apprehensions about the concept of his little hatchling going through the carnal rituals of mating. 

An appreciation that Maleficent has _not_ yet come to, though he doesn’t doubt that with time, one day, it would be possible.

That day, however, is not today and Diaval eventually takes pity on her, leaning over with a smile and gently tugging at the hands covering her eyes. She bares her teeth in a low hiss at him, and then looks adorably put out when Diaval doesn’t even flinch, grinning instead.

“If it helps at all, I’m pretty sure the tongue thing is my own invention; Philip had nothing to do with it.”

She lets out an unmollified groan, covering her face again and Diaval chuckles. He’s just in the middle of thinking how definitely, definitely, adorable Maleficent is like this when in the next instant - she’s up! Wings spread and green fire lit over every inch of her body, swirling dangerously in her eyes.

His laughter is smothered almost instantly by his awe.

The next instant there’s the black material of her dress snaking over her skin.

Diaval gapes then pouts mightily. She can’t get dressed; they’ve only just started!

Maleficent takes one look at his face and the flames die out instantly. Her mouth twitches and she turns away. “Stop making that face, you’re ruining my ire.”

“Where are you going?” he asks, frowning a little because her ire apparently hasn’t been ruined enough.

She turns back to him, emerald eyes gleaming. “To have a nice little chat with Philip about appropriate mating practices.”

Diaval has to struggle against the sudden urge to burst out laughing. He can just picture Maleficent looming over Philip in the bedroom he shares with Aurora, covered in green hell-flames and lecturing him about consent and courteousness and not to put strange things where they’re not wanted.

The poor boy.

He smothers another surge of laughter.

But Diaval does owe him.

“I _will_ be right back.” Maleficent assures him. And at that, her eyes do soften, gold swirling into the green.

Diaval smiles.

Perhaps it’s the newfound assurance that she loves him that gives him the audacity to leap up at the first pump of her wings. Or maybe he just _really_ wants her to stay. Either way, he catches one of her hands, and gently pulls a surprised Maleficent back into his arms.

“Mal,” he begins – and her wings give an involuntary little shiver of pleasure at the term of endearment, and Diaval smiles and smiles - “ as delightful as the sentiment is, and as frankly hilarious as that conversation would be, they _have_ been married for two years. I’m sure Philip has been the perfect gentleman for all of them and when he hasn’t, I’m rather sure Aurora has liked _that_ very much. Besides,” he adds, nuzzling into her cheek to hide his smile at her affronted gasp, “I thought we were going to figure out how to make your wings do that thing you liked.”

Maleficent stills against him completely, in the middle of opening her mouth for a no doubt _scathing_ retort.

It snaps shut with a quiet click. 

She narrows her eyes contemplatively. “Which thing?”

“Mmm.” Diaval lets his hand sneak behind her, trailing lightly down her spine, smiling when goosebumps rise on her skin and she presses closer to him.

He whispers ‘which thing’ into her ear and the soft moan he gets in response is the most gratifying gift of his life. 

When he pulls back, Maleficent’s pupils are blown, pure black edged in gold, gaze a little unfocused as she hones in on his mouth.” hm...”

“Mmhm.” He hums huskily. Diaval places beguiling kisses just under her jaw, his hand slipping lower like it has a mind of its own. “I want to see where else I can put my tongue by the way. I bet you taste just as amazin’ in other places, like wildflowers and blueberries and – ” she was kissing him, sudden and hungry, all thoughts of Philip forgotten.

“We _are_ going to talk about this later” Maleficent pulls back to warn, flashing him a firm glare, “and about what are and _are not_ appropriate conversation topics to have with your Son-In- Law.” Her eyes narrow impressively just before she kisses him again and Diaval could have laughed. 

Well, almost forgotten anyway. 

He’s not too worried though. 

For one, he and Philip had had that little chat years ago. It’d been a rather calm affair after Philip had proposed to Aurora. A walk through the moors while Diaval chatted conversationally about all the poisons that grew in the moors, those that could be found in the town, and their rather unfortunate effects. Why, bodies convulsed and foamed at the mouth and bent in strange contortions, experiencing almost indescribable pain. Some didn’t even kill you! They would just leave you in feverish agony for _days_. Yet it was unbelievable wasn’t it, how easy it was to poison someone? Why, any old bird could do it. Say, if someone mistreated their hatchling, or hurt her in any way that wasn’t purely accidental. Why even he, little old Diaval. He’d fixed Philip with a rather direct stare after that, and watched all color promptly drain from the prince’s face. Needless to say, Philip had spent the week after proposing to Aurora rather pale and shaky, both extremely wary of and respectful towards Diaval. Even more so than the cautious yet polite wariness he bestowed on Maleficent. It had been rather hard not to go around strutting and smirking the entire time. (So, like any wise bird, Diaval had done his strutting and smirking in private. Maleficent had asked what had put him in such a good mood and he’d shrugged and indicated he was ready to be returned to his original form. When she’d done so he’d settled on her shoulder against her neck with contented cooing that had made her chuckle). 

Diaval is entirely sure Philip wouldn’t have forgotten their little discussion anytime soon. 

He’s glad he hasn’t had any reason to make good on his subtle threats and just as glad Philip hadn’t held any kind of grudge. Still. Diaval can’t say he regrets giving that little talk. A raven’s got to do what a raven’s got to do for his hatchling after all.

Besides, he realizes – as his fully- mated mate tangles her fingers in his hair, and tightens her grip into a fist that his him groaning at the delicious pull of it, guides him with perfect force back to her hungry mouth – he doubts either of them is going to have much energy for anything other than sleeping in tomorrow...

Especially not if he has anything to say about it.

**Author's Note:**

> The end😊
> 
> So... I don't actually know how this turned into the monster it did. 😂.
> 
> I mean, I was thinking to myself, Diaval seems pretty knowledgeable about worldly matters, right? So what if he and maleficent finally got together, and Diaval was all suave and confident but anytime his hands tried to sneak anywhere, Maleficent would be all jumpy and suspicious, like "What are you doing?"
> 
> "Um, touching your butt?"
> 
> "... why?"
> 
> "... This will really be easier if I just show you."
> 
> Then I thought, but what if Diaval is the inexperienced one but Maleficent is all hooked up to her animalistic wild side and like, "Yeah! Let's do this!"
> 
> And this was born. 
> 
> Honestly, it was supposed to be a teeny tiny little oneshot... 
> 
> Then it metamorphosed...
> 
> I think i have a general problem😂😂😂. I'll have to try writing something shorter than a page and see. If some part of me spontaneously combusts we'll have our answer. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always welcome😄


End file.
